


Every Planet We Reach Is Dead

by to_the_end



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Anorexia, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Bulimia, Cutting, Depressed Eren Yeager, Depressed Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Depression, Dissociation, Eating Disorders, Hallucinations, Homophobic Language, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Violence, Psychosis, Scars, Self-Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:22:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9554873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/to_the_end/pseuds/to_the_end
Summary: Eren, having been hospitalized in the Adult Ward of Trost Psychiatric Center, struggles to find an identity beyond his own sickness.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has a lot of triggers, PLEASE be careful when reading! Look over the tags and notes to make sure you keep yourself safe.
> 
> Based heavily on personal experience.

Eren sighed, and stared up at the ceiling. What a fucking mess. Honestly, if he had just lied about how he was feeling, he wouldn’t have ended up here, of all places. Trost Adult Psychiatric Ward, Head Administrator, he read off of a plaque adorning the desk in front of him.

The door opened behind him, and he peeked over his shoulder to see who had come in. The stranger was tall and blonde, and totally didn’t look like a guy fucked around. Unfortunate, because Eren’s wit had gotten out of several sticky situations. The guy walked around him to sit behind the desk. 

“Mr. Jaeger,” he said in a deep voice. “I’ll be personally reviewing your case.” He glanced down at the papers. “So you were brought here not of your own accord, admitted on psychological referral from Dr. Ral, diagnosed with a mood disorder NOS. Correct?” 

“Yeah.” Eren said blandly. He was so tired of this, of people getting a first row seating to the shit show that was his life. He barely knew this guy, how was he supposed to talk seriously with him? 

“Mr. Jaeger-”

“Eren. Just call me Eren.” 

“Alright, Eren. I just need to go over some necessary symptom checks so that we can best accommodate to your needs. 

“Shoot.” Eren responded, eyes trained past Mr. Smith, and out the window. He wondered when he would next get to be outside. 

“Do you struggle with any substance abuse?”

“No.”

“Have you experienced any hallucinations, auditory, visual, or otherwise?”

“No.”

“Have you fainted in the last month?”

“Yeah. My meds make me dizzy when I stand up too fast.” Eren answered robotically.

“Alright,” Smith said, checking off some boxes on the forms in front of him before  
continuing. “Have you ever performed self-injurious behaviors?”

“No.”

“Any suicide attempts?”

Eren paused for a bit, trying to wrap his head around the question. It's not as if he didn't know the answer- he did, very well. It was more a question of whether or not he could actually say it. 

“Yes.” He said finally. 

“Could you explain the method?”

“No.”

“Okay,” said Erwin, much to Eren’s surprise. “If you could sign this, please.” Erwin handed over some sort of pamphlet and a form with a neat ‘X’ on the bottom where he should sign. He scribbled a signature and began to flip through the handbook. 

“Your bags will be checked and then delivered to your room. You have two more appointments before you can join the other patients, one with our doctor, and one with the on-duty staff member upstairs.”

“Got it.” Eren mumbled, and Erwin walked out leaving him alone. He skimmed through the packet, looking at the requirements for this facility. Apparently you weren't even allowed to bring sweatpants, unless you'd taken the drawstring out. Pencils, bottles of shampoo, and toothpaste were not allowed into your rooms. You couldn't wear shoes, or bring any sort of comfort item from home. No electronics of any kind. No contact with the outside world, unless it's during visiting hours (immediate family only) or during calling hours. Acting up would result in sedation… what the fuck was this place?

Finally a staff member arrived to escort him to the on-site physician. 

The trip to the doctor’s was quick and efficient, going over his prescribed medications so that they would have them ready when he took them in the morning and evening. His blood pressure and temperature were both taken, and he was looked over for any injuries needing medical attention. 

At last, he was loaded onto an elevator with another staff member. It jolted to life and Eren shot a worried glance at the staff member, who gave a chuckle. 

“Don’t worry, it’s always like this. It’s pressure powered, so while rickety, it would still work in case of an emergency. No wires on this old thing.”

He thumped the elevator wall, as if to prove his point.

“Oh. Well that’s… comforting, I guess.” Eren remarked. 

The rest of the short ride passed in silence. As the doors creaked open, the staff member stepped out, and to the right. The hallway to the left led to the girls rooms, and he followed the man to the right. About fifteen feet down the hall was a reception desk on the left, and the hallway he was in T’d into two more hallways lined with rooms, with a group area on each end. 

“Alright,” said the staff member. “I’m Marco, by the way. I’ll be conducting your personal search. If you could step in here, please?”

He gestured to an opened door, right next to the desk. Inside was a small room, with two heavy metal doors that led to tiny empty rooms with a small mattress. One of the doors was locked, and a peak into the room allowed the brunet to see a small figure sleeping on one of the cots. 

“Okay, and into here.”

He pointed at another room off to the side with a toilet and shower. Eren wasn’t exactly sure what to do before Marco (was that his name?) handed him a hospital gown. 

Eren went into the bathroom and stripped, putting on the thin gown afterwards. He then watched as the staff member searched the linings of his cuffed jeans, flipped out his pockets, and even checked in the tag of his shirt for any incriminating materials. 

“Alrighty, looks like you’re set to go!” Marco smiled. “We put you in Group A, which is out your door to the left.”

Eren mumbled a thanks, and after replacing the gown with his own clothing, walked out.

About five people were gathered around the center, sitting on worn chairs, and a lady with a guitar was speaking to them. Eren hovered awkwardly around the edges of the room before catching her eye. She enthusiastically beckoned him to join the circle. Everyone else looked exceedingly bored. 

“Are you new?” She asked. 

“Yeah…” Eren said thickly. This whole thing was becoming overwhelming; he wasn’t allowed any contact with the outside world, and would rarely go outside. He couldn’t even bring a fucking marker into his room to write or draw. He felt tears well up in his eyes, but he forced them down and sat in an empty chair. The arms of the thing were covered in carvings of obscenities and tally marks. 

“Are you okay?” A voice murmured next to him. “...Well, you’re here, so probably not. I’m sorry.” 

Eren looked up into blue eyes. The guy next to him was on the smaller side, with shoulder length blond hair that was pulled back messily. He had a genuine look of concern on his face, and Eren at least made an attempt to smile back.

“Okay, guys, why don’t we take a break to do introductions, then we’ll continue with our last couple of songs. Why don’t you start?” The lady with the guitar looked at Eren.

“I’m Eren.”

“Hi, Eren! Nice to meet you. We’ll go around in a circle so you can meet your group.” She said. 

They started on Eren’s left.

“Hi, I’m Thomas,” said the man next to Eren.

“I’m Connie.” 

“Jean.” 

“I’m Bertolt.”

“Reiner.”

“And I’m Armin,” said the man to Eren’s right, who had already spoken with him. His eyes were kind. 

“We’re missing one member of our group today, but I’m sure you’ll meet him later,” reassured the guitar lady. “I’m Krista, by the way.” She clapped to get everyone’s attention. “Alright guys, last couple of songs. What’ll it be?” 

The room was dead quiet. Finally Armin spoke, suggesting a well-known song. Several people nodded in unenthusiastic agreement, and Krista started strumming the tune. 

Eren focused on the window, looking out onto the busy street in front of them. His throat still felt tight with sadness, and his fingernails pressed into the flesh of his palm as he squeezed his fists. He concentrated on box breathing, a technique taught to him by Petra. He inhaled deeply for four counts, held it for four counts, exhaled for four counts, held it for four counts….

“Hey, Eren, right?”

He looked up to see Armin standing next to him. “Yeah,” he replied.

“Have you ever been hospitalized before?”

“No.”

“It’s okay, I’ll show you the ropes.”

“Thanks,” Eren said with relief. He honestly had no clue what he was doing. 

Eren entered his room for the first time as Armin led the way, and Eren noticed small plastic plaque identified the room as M306 as he walked in. The room was nicer than he thought it would be. It was spacious with three beds lined up against the left wall, each complete with a little desk and chair. A large window with thick panes lined the far wall. By some god-given miracle, he was bunking with Armin and another one of the guys from his group, Thomas. 

It was right after lunch, and Thomas was still in the lobby, being watched by a supervisor; “post-lunch duty”, Armin had called it. Currently, Eren was sitting on his bed, watching him fold paper in next to him. Small paper cranes littered the window sill and desks; apparently the guy who slept there before Eren, who had recently been discharged, was super into origami, passing the long hours of quiet time by making the little birds. 

“So,” Armin said. “Got any questions about this place?”

“Uh, yeah actually. What are those big cell thingies next to the reception desk?”

“Oh, right. They call them the ‘quiet rooms’. Basically they’re just glorified cells that they put the rowdy people in after giving them booty-juice.”

“What?”

“Huh?”

“Booty-juice? Is that some kind of nasty drink?”

Armin laughed. “No, no, it’s a soporific drug. Basically a sedative; it knocks you out for about eight hours or so.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Yeah. Only a couple people ever get it though. They call it a ‘Code 6’. It even goes over all the loudspeakers. ‘Code 6, Adult Male Ward, Code 6, Adult Male Ward.’” He mocked in a deep voice. “And if you’re super crazy, they’ll call for ‘all males’. Then all the strong guys come to restrain you until they give you booty-juice.”

“Okay, but why is it called booty-juice?”

“Oh. It’s a shot. It goes in your butt. Hence, ‘booty-juice’.” Armin said it so simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

That actually made Eren laugh a bit, despite feeling nervous about the ‘booty-juice’. What did people do that made them be restrained and sedated for eight hours? What if he got a Code 6 called on him? What kind of place was he in?

**Author's Note:**

> If anybody is confused about the layout of the rooms, here is a blueprint for the third floor (Adult Ward) of the hospital:
> 
> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1CugDAgJoClSUVWbD0VWNg9QWZ4rQq9jm3gZhctml-jI/edit?usp=sharing


End file.
